I paused mid-mouthful and cocked my head. Why was that name familiar? I tried to recall the conversation last night where Bel, Win, and I had talked about all those crime families. They all had last names ending in an ini or a tucci.
Swallowing, I swiped my mouth with a napkin and pulled my phone out, typing in the last name as I asked, Eleanor,” Do you remember anything else she might have said?”
Eleanor shrugged and wrinkled her nose. “Nuh-uh. Sorry. That’s it. But we can still be friends, can’t we?”
“Of course we can.” I pointed to her pictures of Dana. “Tell me about your pictures and why you choose to take the ones you do.”
As Eleanor began to explain why some photos of Dana were in focus while the area around him, she’d chosen to blur, I noticed something quite peculiar.
A silver Hyundai Sonata in more than just one of the pictures where Dana was with Sophia.
I paused, getting that tingle I’d begun to pay closer attention to these days. Pointing to the picture on the sidewalk of Sophia’s apartment building, I asked, “Eleanor? What were you doing there that day?”
She didn’t hesitate when she replied, “I was taking a walk on the docks across the street and I saw Dana and Sophia. I waved and smiled at them. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. They knew I was there, swear it.”
I lifted a hand to reassure her she wasn’t in any trouble. “No. I don’t think you were doing anything wrong, Eleanor. I’m just wondering if you saw anyone in this car here?” I pointed to the silver car whose license plate I couldn’t see.
She shook her head. “I didn’t really pay attention. I was really focused on getting the shot while the lighting was right.”
I sifted through more of the pictures, finding four others of Dana and Sophia with the same car. One parked three doors down from Strange Brew as the couple sipped coffee and chatted. One of the two of them walking hand in hand at the food court, and yet another of them at the docks.
“How long ago did you take these, Sophia?”
Her shoulders rose and fell in a careless shrug. “I guess about a month ago, maybe even as early as two weeks ago. Why?”
I smiled so as not to upset her, keeping my answer relaxed. “Just curious, I guess. You know me, always snooping, right? Did the police see these?”
“Nope. They just looked at the ones in my locker.”
“By any chance do you know if you have any more pictures with this car in it?”
“I dunno. I might. What’s the big deal about the car?”
Tippy squeezed Eleanor’s shoulders and said, “It sounds like it might be important and it might help Officer Nelson. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To help Dana? Could you look for us?”
Her sweet face beamed as she tapped her hands on the table. “I’d do anything for Officer Nelson. I’ll go look.”
As she scooted out of the booth, Tippy climbed back in and asked, “What’s going on in that brain of yours, Stevie?”
I tapped the last photo with the car. “That car is in quite a few of these pictures. It makes me suspicious. Maybe it means something, maybe not. But I can’t leave any stone unturned. I’ll take anything to help Dana at this point.”
“I have some more!” Eleanor yelled from the back of the diner, bursting through the kitchen’s swinging doors, her eyes wildly excited. She waved the pictures at me. “See?”
When she placed them on the table, they scattered, sliding around on the slick surface of the photo stock.
But I only needed to see one picture.
By goddess, I’d found Sophia’s killer.
“Eleanor, you’re awesome! I could kiss you! But I have to run now, okay?” I said as I slid out of the booth, my body barely able to keep up with my feet. “Come on into Madam Zoltar’s anytime and maybe we can go have a coffee or grab some lunch at the food trucks?”
I began to run toward the door before I remembered I’d forgotten to pay. Digging through my purse, I threw down some money and smiled again. “Can I borrow this picture, Eleanor? Promise I’ll take good care of it.”
I think I might have frightened her, judging by the hesitant look on her face, but she nodded. “Sure.”
I grinned at her, even though it hurt my nose. “You’re the best, Eleanor! Talk soon—Tippy, thank you!”
I flew outside and to my car, my pulse racing as I flung the door open and hopped inside. Grabbing my phone to check one last thing for confirmation, I typed in the last name Ortolini and pressed enter.
And then my mouth fell open as I read an article and found a bunch of pictures. One that was definitely of Sophia. Holy lasagna. I had to get to the police station, and I had to do it fast.
Of course, I always remember hindsight when I’m in the full moon of, you guessed it, hindsight. I was so excited by my find, so glad I wasn’t going to end up roughed up by some crazy killer this time because I was going to nip all this in the bud before it ever got that far, that I forgot to keep my excitement on the inside.
I also forgot to keep my common sense on the outside.
No. I was too busy patting myself on the back about how I was going to get out of this one with nary a scratch. No broken butts and black eyes for this girl.
I pulled into the police station parking lot on two tires, taking the right-hand turn at breakneck speed. I’d tried calling on Win to tell him what I’d discovered but he was still recuperating, and Arkady appeared to be out of the loop, too.
But that was okay. I didn’t need anyone to instruct me on how to get away from a deranged madman. I was going to come out of this unscathed and celebrate with a couple of Twinkies and a glass of cold white wine.
Screeching to a halt, I didn’t even park in the visitor’s parking lot. I pulled into the sergeant’s spot as though I’d earned the position myself. Throwing the car into park, I grabbed my purse and made a run for the front doors, Eleanor’s picture in hand.
It was eerily quiet outside the station. The department had been running low on staff and new applicants as of late, according to the Eb Falls Herald, but we were a small town, and before this rash of crazy had come to roost here, not a lot went on. I imagine that wasn’t very appealing for a new cop, looking to make his mark.
Still, I wondered where all the cops were. I chalked it up to everyone going off on their nightly patrol, or maybe the change of shift was over at this time of night, but I didn’t think about it too much because I was so wrapped up in my hunch.
“Miss Cartwright? What brings you here at this hour?” a voice, always pleasant, asked.
I froze. Stay calm, Stevie. Show no fear. Make a joke. That always helps. “Um, I was thinking maybe I’d see if I could sneak in a nail file to Dana. He seems pretty handy and very smart. You think he could file his way out of his cell? You know, MacGyver type stuff?”
“I think you think you’re very funny.”
I put a hand to my chest and feigned surprise, hoping not only to stall, but to see if someone, anyone, was around who could help me. “Me? Nah. I don’t think I’m funny at all. In fact, I could win awards for not being funny.”
“So what’s that you have there in your hand, Miss Cartwright?”
A billboard sign announcing your guilt in the murder of Sophia Fleming? “This?” I squeaked, tucking it under my arm. “Oh, it’s just a picture.”
“May I see it?”
I swallowed the lump in my dry throat. “Uh…no?”
“That’s the wrong answer. I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist.”
And that was the hindsight thing I was talking about. In hindsight, I should have put that stupid picture in my purse before I ever got out of my car.
I should have scanned the area to be sure the killer wasn’t anywhere in sight before I pranced into the Eb Falls police station like I was prancing into a dance hall.
I also should have made up a lame story about why I was at the police station when I ran into the killer. I could have said anything. I could have been pretending to
report a robbery at MZ’s, or a break-in at the house. Heck, I could think of a frillion things…now…when the killer’s dragging me off to his car at gunpoint.
See what I mean about hindsight? When I get my brain cells into high gear, it’s always, I repeat, always when my hindsight is in its full moon.
Everything is always very clear. All the right things I should’ve said make themselves apparent. All the spy tactics I could have used make themselves known.
In hindsight.
Chapter 16
“One sound, Miss Cartwright, and I blow your head off.”
“Shouldn’t it be pointed at my head then?” I asked, the barrel of the gun digging into my ribs to keep it hidden, should anyone cross our paths as I was dragged toward the side of the parking lot where it was growing darker by the minute.
Of course, that wouldn’t happen because it would be too easy.
“I’m pretty quick, Miss Cartwright. Don’t worry about a thing. Just know I’ll hit you where it counts.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that at all. I mean, you managed to kill Sophia without looking back. I’m sure it would just take a flick of your wrist and my brains would be splat, all over the parking lot. Which is messy, no doubt, and likely wouldn’t make you a friend of the janitorial department. Question is, how are you going to explain killing Stevie Cartwright?”
Gripping my upper arm, he swung me around to face him, his jaw tight. “I think I can figure something out. I have up ’til now, haven’t I?”
I licked my dry lips and said, “It was you who took a shot at me last night, wasn’t it?”
“Yeeeah. I figured you’d eventually figure out I was the one who killed Sophia, and I don’t like leaving a trail behind me when I do a hit. Even if there’s the slightest chance I’m wrong, I clean up my messes. Collateral damage and all. You understand, right? It’s not personal. Sorry I hit your dog.”
Yanking my arm hard, he pulled me closer, and I tried not to struggle but distract. “You tricked her, didn’t you? You tricked Sophia into going somewhere with you and she went because she trusted you!”
“Like a lamb to slaughter. All it took was telling her Nelson was hurt. Now, in the trunk you go,” he ordered, so cold, so completely removed, I had to wonder how he’d ever passed a psych test.
“Wait!” I hissed, hoping against hope when I needed my powers the most, they’d appear. C’mon, magic fingers—just a sizzle will do; one little spark and whammo.
“I don’t have time to argue with you, Miss Cartwright. You know way too much, and what you don’t know, like I said, I’m guessing you’ll figure out. Your nose is in everything all the time and I have to tell you, it’s very frustrating. ‘Curiosity killed the cat’ happens to be true in your case. But now, the time has come to pay the piper.”
Popping the trunk of the very silver sedan I was heading into the police station to show a picture of to the police, he pointed, jamming the gun into my ribs. “You can get in yourself, or I can put you in there. Choice is yours.”
My eyes darted around the parking lot, but it was as quiet as a church. “Of course you can. You’re big and strong, aren’t you? I have at least twenty pounds on Sophia, but you somehow managed to carry her down my stairs and stage her in my boat to make it look like Officer Nelson had killed her because she’d turned his proposal down.”
But he was cool as a cucumber facial, his eyes glittering like ice chips. I’m guessing that’s because he’d done this before and he wasn’t at all nervous about taking a life—especially if there was big money in the mix, which I assumed was the case with Sophia.
“Last chance, Miss Cartwright.”
“Wow, still with the formalities, Detective Montgomery? And to think I thought you were the good cop. Some amateur sleuth I am, right?”
Detective Montgomery grinned at me, quite suddenly in fact, a devilish glint to his eyes. “You know, I really liked that. It was pretty funny. Made Sean Moore crazy, which made it funnier, but what do you expect from a lughead like him? He’s an unbelievable moron. Thankfully, I won’t have to suffer that fool any longer. I’m just taking care of business, and then I’m outta this Podunk town, outta this damn mess you’ve made of everything.”
He began lifting me with just one arm, and when I’d called him strong, I don’t know that I’d realized how strong. So I stalled some more by stiffening up, trying to remember what Win had taught me about car trunks and latches and all sorts of escape maneuvers.
“Out? Where are you going?” I asked, fighting to keep the hysteria out of my voice, praying someone would make an appearance. Where the heck was all the Eb Falls law enforcement, for Pete’s sake?
I think Detective Simone was done playing Good Cop, and his patience with me had run its course, because he wasn’t answering any more of my questions.
“In you go,” he said without even a grunt as he hauled me upward by my waist and dumped me into the trunk. Looking down at me as I groaned in pain, he winked. “I think you were being too kind to yourself when you said you only had twenty pounds on Sophia. Feels more like thirty-five.”
I gasped. I don’t know why. I’m not sure why his insult was suddenly so demeaning when my life was at stake and my weight was surely inconsequential, but I gasped in outrage.
“Did you just call me fat? You big stupid jerk!” I shouted up at him, making him look around the parking lot as my voice carried.
And that was my opportunity—which I took with great pleasure and strange calm. Thirty-five pounds my eye.
The moment Officer Hard-Body looked upward, I made a fist and went right for his tender bits. And I do mean I went for them—hard. I rammed my fist into his flesh and jerked it upward to really send my message home.
The second he buckled forward was the second I braced myself with the heel of my hand, using the other to latch onto the rim of the trunk and kick him square in the forehead. His howl of pain brought me great satisfaction as I struggled to get out of the trunk.
My heart crashed against my ribs and my legs wobbled, but I rolled out of that trunk like I’d just rolled off the turnip truck, falling to the ground on my shoulder and somehow managing to get to my knees before Officer Montgomery’s hand gripped my ankle and tripped me.
I don’t know where the gun was at this point. I only know I hit that pavement hard, literally scraping my chin on it and almost biting my tongue clear in half. I clawed at the pavement, trying to get any kind of foothold, my nails ripping as they dug into the hard surface, even now still hot from the heat of the day.
My screech of pain and frustration must’ve awakened Win because he was there suddenly, in full force.
“Stevie! Roll and twist! Twist your body around, wrap your free ankle around his thick head and give him a good hard crack on the back of his noggin with the heel of your boot! You’ve got to get inside the police station!”
“Malutka, he still has the gun!” Arkady shouted.
I did exactly as Win said, rolling over as quickly as the pavement would allow for all its grabbing at my clothing, and wrapped my ankle around Officer Montgomery’s neck before bringing my foot up and crashing down on his head. I heard something skitter across the parking lot, but couldn’t see what it was due to the fact that it was getting darker by the second.
His face bounced, cracking the pavement with a sick thud and startling me, but Win was right back in my ear again. “Dove, run! Grab the gun and run!”
“To your left, my petal! It is to your left!” Arkady yelped.
My eyes swerved wildly to the left, seeing the gun gleaming just by the curb on the way into the station, but I wasn’t quick enough, my hands were too clammy with sweat and I lost my grip, sending the gun flying right toward Detective Montgomery.
“Forget the gun, Dove, run! Get inside where it’s safe!” Win hollered as I fumbled and twisted my ankle, but I aimed for the front door of the police station, screaming the entire way.
“He’s up, pretty rosebud, and he has the gun,
you must run!”
“Zigzag, Stevie! Zigzag!” Win belted out.
“Hellllppp!” I bellowed, finally reaching the doors of the station just as Detective Montgomery managed to fire off a shot at me, breaking the glass. I fell through the opening without bracing myself at all, scuttling over the glass, grateful I’d decided to wear my work boots today.
But Detective Montgomery’s voice boomed in my ears when he yelled, “Stop! Police!”
His voice filled me with terror, but one thought terrified me even more—Montgomery wasn’t seriously going to try to play like he was chasing after me because I’d committed some crime, was he?
And then a second thought dawned—that’s exactly what he’d do. He’d make up some crazy story about me, giving him a perfectly justifiable reason to kill me, and no one would be the wiser because he was a cop.
“Don’t look back! Keep running toward the front desk!” Win demanded. “Go, Stevie, go!”
I burst into the entryway, running the long length of it until I reached the desk, to find only Sandwich with Officer Baby-Face, but the rest of the department looked like it was deserted. Dang it all, where was Bad Cop when you needed him?
But the precinct was long versus wide, with plenty of rooms and desks to hide behind. Again, I wondered where was everyone?
“Help! Sandwich!”
I screamed just as another shot was fired and Detective Montgomery once again yelled, “Stop! Police!”
I dove over the counter—don’t ask how, don’t ask what made me instinctually go for broke, it just seemed like the right thing to do. The only problem was, I took Sandwich with me just as he was preparing to draw his gun, knocking him to the ground and sending him sailing into the leg of the hard metal desk behind him. His skull hit it with a sharp crack that echoed around the room before his eyes slid closed and he went lifeless.
That left Officer Baby-Face and me—and from the look of shock on his face and his lack of reaction, he’d frozen. Ooo boy. I was in trouble.
The Old Witcheroo Page 17